


Pancakes and Bacon

by lauz



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), Teen Wolf (TV) RPF
Genre: Blushing!Derek, Derek Makes Pancake, Domestic Goddess derek hale, First Kiss, Kissing, M/M, Pancakes, Peter being Peter, Stiles has a mouth kink, cute sterek, pure fluff, sassy!peter, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-16
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-15 21:41:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1320169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lauz/pseuds/lauz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles wakes up in Derek's loft. In Derek's bed. In Derek's arms and then Derek makes breakfast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pancakes and Bacon

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Оладушки и бекон](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2475227) by [MaryWB](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaryWB/pseuds/MaryWB)



Stiles stirs from sleep with a jolt, his eyes are fuzzy; he swears there are strong arms around his waist and a stubbly chin on his shoulder, nuzzling his neck gently. Stiles was sure he came to the loft alone.

He whines out loud and wriggles against the body, assuming it’s Scott. 

“Scott?” Stiles tries experimentally rolling his shoulder, “Scotty, c’mon man wake up.”

“You really think Scott’s this buff?” A voice that’s definitely not Scott’s replies, Stiles is sure there’s a brief press of lips to his shoulder.   
It makes Stiles jump and scramble to his feet, trying to cover his dignity.

“Shit – Derek what… what are you – what the fuck, Derek!?”  
“I live here, you do know this right?” Derek rolls his eyes pulling himself into a sitting position, “What are _you_ doing here?”

“Yeah, but you weren’t meant to be home until tomorrow or the day after. I can’t remember anymore and I can’t sleep at home; keep waking my dad up when I start screaming.” Stiles explains ashamed, he knows there’s no point lying to Derek, “He thinks I’m crashing with Scott and Isaac. I’m sorry, I’ll go.”

“No, no. It’s alright, stay. I’ll make breakfast” Derek grimaces, Stiles nods.

“I’m gonna – clothes.”

Derek smirks and nods, as much as Derek would love to see Stiles eat breakfast in nothing but his underpants he’d rather not give Peter ammunition to make fun of Stiles. 

When Stiles is dressed he finds Derek in the making pancakes and bacon, he almost has to double take. It’s all so fluffy and domestic and unDereky.   
He stands in the doorway for a few moments just admiring Derek; he’s just wearing black lounge pants and a “kiss the cook” apron. Stiles can’t stop looking at the muscles in his back move with his movements. 

“Do you like your bacon chewy or crispy?” Derek asks not bothering to turn around.

“Uh, chewy I guess. What time did you get home?” Stiles says, pulling himself onto the spare worktop. “I’m sorry I was in your bed, I just didn’t know where to go. You should’ve just kicked me out.”

“A few hours ago, I didn’t want to wake you. But Peter did want to draw on your face.”

"Typical Peter then," Stiles mutters, swinging his feet in the air.

Derek nods, peeling a pancake off the pan with a small spatula. Stiles is almost sure he's dreaming, the big bad alpha doesn't make pancakes for teenagers he finds sleeping in his loft. 

He places a pancake on a plate for Stiles, before mumbling _"just a tester"_. The younger boy bites into it gently and already he can tell they are the best pancakes he will ever consume. 

"Amazing," Stiles says somewhat surprised, mouth full of pancake. 

Derek sort of smiles, "It was my mother who taught me how to cook when I was a kid, because I know you’re wondering." 

Stiles nods understandingly before breaking into a grin, "definitely a winner." 

"Thanks. Uh, could you set the table? There's cutlery in that drawer, plates and sauces in that cupboard. OJ’s in the fridge." Derek says quietly as he places bacon into a sizzling pan. 

Stiles does as he's asked and sets the table, it's quite small and made of oak, but just big enough for the inevitable arrival of Peter. He reluctantly sets a place for him as Derek serves breakfast; Stiles' mouth is watering as Derek places a five stack pancake and a lot of bacon on his plate. 

They eat in a somewhat comfortably awkward silence until Peter decides to be Peter. 

"Wake up spooning my nephew?" He asks Stiles, coy smile on his lips.   
Stiles looks to Derek with wide eyes for help as he chokes on his orange juice, Derek rolls his eyes. 

"Fuck off," Derek mutters, biting into a chewy bit of bacon. 

"Now, now I'm only asking, Derek." Peter says. 

"And I'm just telling you to fuck off." Derek grits back slowly. 

Stiles has never heard Derek swear but he's always wanted to, the way his mouth curls around the word "fuck" makes his skin crawl in the best ways. Stiles has always been sure you can tell a lot about a person by the way they say fuck, meaning how good they'll be when they go down on you.   
Now, Stiles can't stop thinking about the way Derek's lips would curl around his dick. He hopes to god that Peter can't read minds because he'd be so fucked if that were the case. 

"Well, thanks for breakfast Derry I'll be out of you and your little spoon's way." Peter snorts as he abandons his plate in the sink. 

Derek rolls his eyes ignoring the blush painted across Stiles' face as he gathers up the dishes and puts them with Peter's.

"Let me do the dishes, as a thank you." Stiles says quickly, his head hanging low. "It's the least I can do."

Derek cocks an eyebrow, "I have a dishwasher." 

"Oh," Stiles feels stupid. 

"Thanks though." 

Stiles smiles back at him, "those pancakes were godly, thanks for breakfast." 

"You have maple syrup on your lips." Derek grimaces toward Stiles; he drags the back of his hand over his lips. “You missed, here let me.” 

Derek crowds against Stiles, head low as he licks his thumb and flicks it against the sticky syrup. 

_“Oh.”_ Stiles mutters, eyes glued to Derek’s lips. “Hi.”

Derek leans down and presses his lips to Stiles’, hands cradling his face. Stiles smiles into him and presses into Derek a little harder, his arm snakes up and into the hair at the base of Derek’s neck and tugs it softly. 

Stiles smiles against Derek and pulls away slowly, Derek takes a step backwards before breaking into the biggest grin Stiles has ever seen on anyone ever, his cheeks are brushed with a red tint. 

“We definitely need to test out my “fuck theory” very soon,” Stiles smirks before going in for another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know. I love Sterek and I love pancakes.
> 
> http://lycanthropists.tumblr.com  
> http://www.twitter.com/haleshowling


End file.
